Spell On My Heart
by dress without sleeves
Summary: I'll have you know that 'The Attack of the Killer Daffodils' is a very prestigious production. It's terrifying if done properly. Bill didn't sleep for weeks. Of course, he was four at the time...but nonetheless, don't bash it 'till you've tried it. RHr


**Author's Notes:** Another attempt at Ron/Hermione while I work on the first chapter of my _Mummy_ piece . . . exciting. ;)

I wrote this ages ago. Was too lazy to put it up. :D

"She was gone faster than you could say Pepsi Product. I mean, I didn't actually say it, but I know that the measurements of time would be about equal, and therefore, you could have said it and she, in fact, would have been gone." –**Kris **** **my lovely, lovely beta. So, go read her stuff.

Now.

Yes, now.

Yes, before you read this.

. . . Oh, fine, read this first. But afterwards. Go then.

_**Spell On My Heart**_

"Mars is unusually bright tonight."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Actually, no it isn't, Ron. That's Venus." She glanced over at him. His face was turned up towards the sky, eyes narrowed in concentration. He sighed and shook his head, lowering his gaze to meet hers with a wry smile.

"Astronomy never was my strong point," he admitted with a shrug. Hermione smiled at him and shook her head exasperatedly. "But it sounds so ominous, doesn't it? _Mars is unusually bright tonight._ It's got 'Attack of the Killer Daffodils' written all over it."

She arched an eyebrow. "Attack of the Killer Daffodils?" She queried, fighting a smile. "Shouldn't we shoot for something more realistic, like 'Attack of the Killer Dark Lords'?"

Ron shook his head. "I'll have you know that 'The Attack of the Killer Daffodils' is a very prestigious production put on by the Witchcraft and Wizardry Actors Academy every year. And don't laugh - it's terrifying if done properly. When Bill went to see it for the first time, he didn't sleep for weeks."

He paused and then chuckled. "Of course, he_ was_ four at the time. But nonetheless, don't bash it 'till you've tried it."

"_Right_," she agreed with a wry toss of her head. "The next time someone tells me that Mars reminds them of murderous flowers, I'll try to keep an open mind." Ron tossed her a laughing glance and she shook her head ruefully. "Come on now, we really have to finish this."

The redhead sighed. "Hermione," he whined, "You don't understand. It's two o'clock in the morning, and I can't tell the difference between the sun and Pluto on the best of days. Why can't I just copy _your_ star chart?"

She rolled her eyes and sighed. "Ron, you can't even _see_ Pluto for one, and secondly, copying is cheating. And cheating is against school rules."

"Ye-e-e-e-es..." Ron agreed slowly, "But I imagine going into the Chamber of Secrets was, too. And chasing Quirrell. And attacking Snape in third year. And using a time-turner to save a convict. And that's not just against school rules, that's Ministry law too! And - "

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," she interrupted, groaning. "But you still can't copy my star chart. Copy Harry's."

"Can't. Harry just drew a picture of a fork and connected the dots."

Hermione frowned. "Why a fork?"

Ron shrugged, grinning. "I guess he figured the forks were easier to draw than dragons."

"You two are hopeless," she muttered, shaking her head. "Completely hopeless." So saying, she shoved her parchment towards her friend. "But be quick about it. I want to get back to the dormitories soon."

He grinned. "Aw, I knew you'd come around."

And then he did something he'd never done before - he kissed her on the cheek. She blinked into the darkness, stunned for a moment, and then turned to stare at him. But he was busily copying down her chart.

And she couldn't see it, but he was flaming as red as his hair. Perhaps redder. But it was dark, as I have said, and it was covered up quite well. Her lips turned up into a smile as she watched him work, and she leaned against the table. "Hey... Ron?" She ventured slowly, "D'you believe in God?"

His hand paused. "What?" He asked, sounding perplexed. "Why?"

She shrugged. "Well, I just figured that with all the... stuff going on right now... I don't know. I just wondered. If you don't want to tell me it's no big deal - "

"I reckon I do," he answered, ignoring the latter half of her statement. "I never really thought about it. I guess it would be pretty depressing not to have anyone looking out for us, right?"

She nodded thoughtfully. "I think... I think that I believe in God. But he's more of a guide. I don't think that if you were to pray to get a good grade before a test he'd take much notice, or even if you prayed for your captors not to kill you."

"Captors?"

She blushed. "If you were held hostage or something," she clarified. "I mean, I think he decides when you're going to die, and that's it. There's no changing his mind. He watches your life and doesn't interfere - but he controls Destiny, too, so if someone _else_ interferes, like if you get rescued from your kidnappers, then it's sort of like Divine Intervention. Except... not really. You know?"

Ron put his quill down and hopped onto the table so that he was sitting. "I don't know if I like that idea," he said thoughtfully. "I rather like the prospect of God sitting up there, drinking Firewhiskey and relaxing while his angels play him a Celestina Warbeck song, and when he sees you're in trouble he'll come to your aid. Unless it's just your time, in which case he lets you rot."

Hermione laughed. "I hardly think God drinks Firewhiskey," she countered, "And his angels would probably play harps, not Celestina Warbeck."

"Why?" The redhead returned. "I mean, the Firewhiskey thing I understand. But why would he insist on harps? I think he might enjoy a little Celestina."

"You are incorrigible, you know that?" He grinned lopsidedly at her.

"It's been said, yes. But I never accused myself of being mature." The bushy-haired girl shook her head with a laugh and gathered up her things.

She looked over at Ron. "Are you ready?" He nodded. "Good, because I'm not waiting any more. After you." He tossed her a grin and slipped out the door a step ahead of her. He paused in the hallway and she reached his side. "Well, to the dormitories, then?"

He paused. "Actually, I was rather hoping - maybe we could - well, that is, would you like to - I just thought - " He broke off and laughed. "Oh, sod it. I fancy a walk around the lake. Care to join me?"

_Yes, Ron. Of course I'll join you. I'd love to._

"We have an exam tomorrow," she reminded him. "You ought to get a good night's rest beforehand."

He arched an eyebrow. "Yes, well, that's gone to hell now, in case you haven't noticed."

She bit her lip. "What if Harry waited up?"

"He didn't."

"How do you know?" She demanded, frowning. "He might have!"

Ron shook his head firmly. "Nope. I told him not to and he said he wouldn't. Besides, even if he tried to, he'll be out by now. Can't stay awake past eleven if there's no adrenaline to keep him going, that one." He studied her. "Hey, listen - if you don't want to come, don't worry about it. You don't have to make excuses."

_No! No, I want to come. It's just...does this little 'walk around the lake' mean the same thing to you as it does to me? Or is it just that - a walk about the lake?_

"I..." she threw her hands into the air. "I'd love to come. But can we drop our stuff off in the dormitories first?"

Ron nodded. "'Course." They walked silently, almost awkwardly, until they reached the portrait. Even then, they hesitated to go in. "Erm... peacock lemon."

The fat lady winked at them. "Out late tonight, eh?" She asked, her tone implying that they hadn't just been stargazing in the astronomy tower. She swung open at both Ron and Hermione stepped inside, cheeks blazing, and yet neither one wanting to mention the implication for fear that they had been the only one to notice it.

"Here, I'll take your stuff up to the boys' dormitories, if that's all right," Ron offered, "as I imagine Harry'll want it tomorrow morning."

Hermione laughed quietly. "Oh, fine. But tell him to be careful - I worked hard on that."

Ron saluted and hurried up the steps to the 6th year boy's dormitories. Hermione let herself fall onto the couch exhaustedly. She leaned her head against the armrest and just shut her eyes, waiting for Ron to come back. They'd go on their walk then...

... Ron shut the door gently and tiptoed back down the steps. Hermione's hair was hanging off the couch and he chuckled silently.

"All set," he told her. "Ready?" There was no reply. "Are you ready?" He repeated, louder. Still nothing. "Hermione?" He hurried to her side and broke out into a grin as he saw her chest gently rising and falling, caught in sleep's web. "Fine, fine, looks like you're taking a rain check," he muttered good-naturedly, and transfigured a blanket for her. "G'night." He hesitated, and then bent down to touch his lips to her forehead.

She nestled deeper into the couch and wrapped the quilt tighter around her shoulders. He gazed quietly at her for a moment and then smiled to himself. "Goodnight, Hermione," he whispered, and disappeared out the portrait hole.

After all, just because she wasn't with him didn't mean he couldn't go for his walk. And maybe, if he was far enough away from the school and alone, he could sing at the top of his voice and give the angels something _good_ to play on those confounded instruments.

He thought 'Spell On My Heart' would do nicely.


End file.
